


Times Change

by Sabrielwings (Frizzles)



Series: Angel Hunting [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:22:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frizzles/pseuds/Sabrielwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel feathers are a very expensive, highly sought after item. Angels are hunted for them, and sometimes held captive - so that they can continuously provide feathers throughout their lifetime, until the feathers are no longer good enough to keep the angel.</p>
<p>Main story from Angel Hunting series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I love these types of fics but the only ones I've found have all been abandoned after a few chapters. u.u So I'll write my own! But it'll probably be kinda rubbish.  
> Eventual Sabriel and Destiel.

Angels were wild, vicious things.  
Holy books proclaimed them to be humanity's loving protectors in the name of our Father, but the reality couldn't be further. They were like animals, cruel and predatory. Angels were strong, could easily break human bones like twigs. They could fly high and attack from above, or they could simply ambush from behind soundlessly.  


They also had incredibly lustrous feathers, highly sought after for cosmetic reasons.  
That was why they were hunted, human hunting parties growing very rich very fast if they could part wing and angel.  


Dogs were not sufficient when tracking the elusive angels, and so humanity had turned to demons. Demons made excellent angel hunters, as they were natural adversaries, and were merciless when they caught their prey. Unfortunately they were also careless and a badly behaved Demon could easily damage the feathers that were the point of every hunt.  


Little did anyone realise, that they themselves had made the Angels cruel, a measure of protection against the humans they had once watched over so carefully. That angels once were those kind and loving protectors. That humans had revered them as they walked the Earth, had spread their messages of joy.  


That angels were wild and cruel because they had to be, to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but that's because it's the general idea! :) Actual chapters are longer, I promise.


	2. Smashing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The proposed amendments to the demon laws have been turned down, again.  
> Dean feels it's pretty obvious why the amendments need to happen.

“Bloody demons!”

Dean slammed his hands against the wheel, frustrated beyond words.  
He was sitting in his car outside the courthouse, his younger brother quietly sitting beside him. Sam didn't seem so upset by the verdict the jury had reached – but then, Sam had only been a baby when it had happened. This meant so much more to Dean, as he had known their mother for 4 years of his life.  
Until the family demon had brutally killed her, using his hellfire to burn her to a crisp.  


Since he'd left his father's care just a year previous, Dean had recruited his baby brother and the two of them had worked tirelessly to change the law in regards to pet demons. Currently, the law was pretty lax when it came to demon ownership, and in some places it even compared them to dogs.  
Such was the case in regards to demon attacks that took place on private property.  
Legally, as it was private property, the demon was not required to be destroyed.  
And even if it had belonged to someone else, the law could do nothing for them.  


Their demon, Azazel, had fled once Mary was dead. John had spent the rest of his life hunting it down, and, when he finally caught up with the beast and shot it dead, he was arrested for his troubles.  
After all, demons were pets.  
And, in this country at least, it was illegal to harm one. Animal cruelty, even.  
So, now John was in jail and Sam and Dean were without parents, but at least old enough to fend for themselves.  


Sam had been – at least partially – through law school, and so Dean relied heavily on him during their work. In turn, Dean would drive Sam around, and provide food and motel rooms for each night as it came around.  


This most recent failure was the fifth in a string of attempts over the years to get the law changed, and it was wearing on the brothers heavily.  
Sam had half heartedly suggested they give up and just avoid demons, to which Dean had affixed him with a glare.  
“One of these sons of bitches killed our mother, Sammy! Who knows how many others are planning the same? You can't control demons and they sure as hell don't love anyone. I'm not giving up on this!”  


“OK Dean, I get it. I really do. But maybe we should at least take a break?” Sam looked his brother over with a critical eye, from the dark bags under his eyes to his rather crumpled and worn clothing. “Jesus Dean, you look like Hell! At least take a break to catch up on your sleep. Then we can carry on. We'll win, eventually. You know we will.”  


“Yea, Sammy, I get that. But damn it! Why do people have to be so blind?!” Dean swore and slumped back, head tilted into the headrest of his seat. He pressed his palms into his eyes, groaning. “Why can't anyone else see that demons are evil sons of bitches?”  


Five minutes passed in silence after Dean's small outburst, minutes that allowed him to calm down somewhat. He took his hands away from his face and sighed, settling in comfortably.  
“Guess we just go back to the motel, huh? Can't say I'm particularly hungry right now..”  
“Motel is good with me.” Sam closed his eyes as the impala's engine thrummed into life, a lullaby he'd fallen asleep to many times over the past year. It soothed Dean just as much, if not more, and he was completely relaxed as he pulled away from the courthouse and slipped into almost empty roads.

Sam was woken by the scream of protesting tyres and the violent swerve of the car. He hit his cheek painfully against the window before he sat up, grabbing hold of the dashboard to control his movements somewhat. Next to him, Dean swore colourfully, twisting the wheel frantically in an attempt to correct their course.  
Sam's sleep-addled brain barely understood what was happening, but when he felt the thump of something solid going under the wheels, he realised at once.

Finally they stopped.  
In a thick cloud of dust and grass kicked up by the wheels, they barely saw the tree coming. When they hit it, it was almost like time slowed down.  
Then the three was suddenly much closer, and everything went black. All Sam could hear as the world went dark was the screams of metal dying down, and his brothers frantic shouting.  
Sounded like his name.  
He tasted blood.

When Sam came round, it felt like the world was on fire.  
He tried to move and pain screamed through him. He cried out, then called for his brother, eyes shut tight.  
“Sam, Sammy, it's gonna be alright. You're gonna be fine, you hear me?” Dean was there immediately, his hand finding Sam's. It felt cool in a too-hot world, and Sam clutched it tight, feeling like it was his only anchor.  
“Dean..?”  
“Yea, Sammy?” Dean pressed in closer, clambering back into the wrecked car.  
“Hurts.”  
“I know it does, Sammy. You're gonna be fine though. It'll be fine.” Dean's voice broke as he spoke, alerting Sam that something was very wrong. “Dean?”  
“Yea Sammy? I'm right here.” Dean squeezed his hand gently, rubbing at his own eyes with his other hand.  
“It's not OK, is it?” Sam's voice wavered, growing faint as he spoke. He sucked in a breath, eyes watering at the sharp pain breathing prompted.  
“Of course it is! You're gonna be fine, Sammy. Just fine.” Dean twisted round to peer down the road at the distant sound of sirens, but nothing was visible yet. His eyes dropped to the cause of their accident – An angel lay crumpled in the road, unconscious and bloody. Dean swallowed hard, now faced with a tough decision. He bit his lip till he tasted blood, then looked back at his brother. “Sammy, there's something I gotta do real quick, OK? You just stay here, I'll be back in 2 minutes.”  
Sam tensed, but nodded slightly, swallowing hard. “2 minutes. OK.” He murmured, his voice raspy.  


Dean squeezed his hand reassuringly before he let go and climbed back out of the car. He turned his attention to the angel, hobbling over to the prone form in the road and lowering himself into a crouch. He hissed with pain as he did so, his own injuries from their accident making themselves known. He ignored them for the time being, and checked the angels pulse first. Picking up a limp wrist, he pressed his fingers to the inside firmly and was met with a steady pulse – Angels were tough creatures. Apparently, tough enough to withstand being run over.  


Next problem. Dean couldn't manage lifting the angel, not with his leg injured. He was going to have to drag it, and he had a feeling that was going to hurt. But, if he left it in the road it was going to get run over again. And there was no guarantee it'd survive a second time.  


Dean grabbed the wrists and pulled, angling himself for the grassy bank at the side of the road. The angel was surprisingly light, and his progress was quick, but clearly not painless. The angel groaned in pain as the road scraped it's skin harshly, but Dean ignored it.  
Sam. He had to get back to Sam, fast.  


He dropped the angel's wrists once he was sure it was out of harms way, then stepped over it and headed back to the ruined impala. He'd never seen an angel before, save for pictures, and normally he'd be curious, but – Sam.

Climbing back inside the impala, for one heart stopping moment Dean thought his brother had died while he had been helping the angel. Then Sam sucked in another rattly breath, and Dean in turn let go of the one he'd been holding.  
“Sammy? How you feeling? Ambulance is nearly here.” He murmured, taking his brothers cold hand again.  


Sam made a non-committal sound with his throat, eyes still shut tight – his head hurt from where he'd hit it during the crash. “Dean.”  
“Yea, Dean. Right here Sammy.” Dean smiled, but it felt fake even to him. “You're gonna be fine.” He repeated his words from earlier, not even realising he was doing it. And really, he had every right to be scared.  
So long as Sam kept his eyes shut though, he could pretend to be brave, pretend it was all OK. For Sam's sake.  


For, if he had to describe Sam in that moment, 'OK' was not a word he would use.  
He bit at his bloody lip again, making no sound despite his eyes welling up with tears. He was thankful, at least, that Sam seemed to not be feeling most of it. Still wasn't even aware of what had happened.  


The first stirrings of guilt came then. Dean knew how this had happened, and it was his fault. He had hit that tree rather than hit the demon that had ran out in front of them. He had swerved to spare a demon, of all things! And now Sam was...  
Well, Dean had seen it before he'd hit it. The tree the impala had wrapped around had several low hanging branches. He'd hit it at the wrong angle and now he'd practically condemned Sam to his death. The tears came then, falling – silently, so silently – down his cheeks to the joined hands. “Sam...”

Sam frowned when he felt the wetness on their hands. “Dean. Don't lie. Not OK, is it?”  
“The ambulance is here, Sammy. It will be OK. You will be.” Dean unclasped his brothers hand with great difficulty, moving away from the car to make way for the paramedics rushing in. They jostled him back as they crowded around the car door, and all Dean could do then was watch. And even that, he couldn't stand to do. He slowly made his way over to where he had left the angel, lowering himself onto the grass with a stifled hiss of pain.  
The angel was still unconscious, showed no signs of waking just yet, so Dean watched the paramedics from the safe distance he was at.  


From here, he didn't have to watch what they were going to have to do.

A voice that was not Dean's spoke, and Sam frowned in confusion. “Dean?” He mumbled, his words seeming thick on his tongue.  
“Your brother's just out of the way, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”  
“Hurts.” Sam's voice was faint again, the medic having to lean in to hear him. She nodded, frowning.  
“Not surprising. Your brother got off light here. I'm afraid you took the worst of it. Don't worry though, we're gonna get you out of there and fix you up in no time!”  


Sam felt an odd sort of tugging sensation then, that seemed to be centred in his chest. It persisted, and so he cracked one eye open to see what was going on. He snapped it shut almost instantly, feeling bile rising up his throat and dearly wishing he'd never looked.  


Now he understood why Dean was so shaken, why he'd kept repeating that it was OK. Because it really, really, wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's not clear what happened, well! Now you feel how they feel :O  
> Put more simply tho, a demon ran out in front of them and Dean swerved to avoid it. Ran the angel over, hit the tree. :)


	3. Within an Angel's Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...He was dying, some distant part of him thought. Somehow, it wasn't as bad as he'd always imagined it to be. Almost pleasant, really, now that the pain had passed..._

When Sam could bring himself to focus again, it was to the sound of frantically beeping machinery and hurried voices.  
He was laying flat on a hard bed, a mask over his nose and mouth. He breathed in deep, his breath catching inside him as pain abruptly lanced through his chest. He let go of the breath, listening to how it rattled as it went.  


He blinked his eyes open next. He wasn't able to move, his neck in a brace and body strapped down to keep him still.  
Thankfully, it also meant he couldn't see his chest. For, when the impala had struck that tree, a low hanging branch had gone straight through the glass. Dean had avoided it out of sheer luck, but Sam...  
Well.  
The branch had punched straight through his chest like it was paper. Had most definitely punctured a lung, at the very least. Sam didn't know enough to guess at what extent his injuries really were.  
Damn, with the breathing mask on he couldn't even be heard if he spoke.  


He closed his eyes again, resting them from the too-bright glare of the ambulance lights.  
They were still at the crash site, he thought. He hadn't felt them move at all – aside from carrying him on board – and Dean was hanging around outside, letting the paramedics work.  
He quirked the corner of his mouth up as his thoughts went to Dean. Dean had escaped from the crash with only minor injuries. That was good. At least one of them...

The world tilted sickeningly, and now Sam felt as though his head was in the clouds. He fought against rising bile as the sensation induced a wave of nausea, squeezing his eyes tighter shut and praying for it to stop.  
Instead, it worsened.  
From what sounded like a distance, Sam heard one of the medics shout something. Then Dean was there, shouting his name, though it sounded distorted and faint to Sam. He sucked in a breath and fire seared through his body. He was sure he cried out, but he didn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything any more, but the rapid beeping of machinery that he was sure was meant to mean something.  


The fire burned brighter, and he struggled, taking in another breath. Not a deep one. No, now he was gasping for breath. He wasn't getting enough air. _Why wasn't he getting enough air?_

  


He heard Dean shout his name again, faint as if underwater. A roaring sound filled his ears, and it took him a moment to place it. It was like a waterfall. Logically, he knew they were nowhere near any waterfalls. Logically, he knew it was the sound of his own blood he was hearing.  
But the logical side of him seemed absent at that moment, shut out by pain.  


He drew in another breath and it _hurt, god it hurt._ There was fire in his veins, burning him up from the inside out. He was sure this was what Hell felt like. The pain grew even more intense, till Sam thought he was going to pass out. Then a sweet, blessed numbness begin to seep through him. He stole another breath and was delighted to find it no longer hurt. The roaring in his ears subsided, replaced by a gentle thrumming.  


He could no longer hear the frantic bursts of activity around him, nor the beeping machines... Not even his brothers heartbroken pleading for him to _Come back Sammy please please come back..._  
He smiled gently, caught in a calm serenity. He was dying, some distant part of him thought. Somehow, it wasn't as bad as he'd always imagined it to be. Almost pleasant, really, now that the pain had passed.

  


Dean continued to plead, broken words and gasping breaths. Tears streaked his face, and not one of the medics even thought to ask him to leave the ambulance. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, choking out a tearful 'Sammy, please'. He sucked in a breath, one that was almost as painful as it had been for Sam. But from a different type of pain entirely, a growing ache in his chest that threatened to close off his throat entirely and choke him with unshed tears and broken words.  


He was watching as Sam's lips curved upwards gently, and it felt like a knife to his chest, twisting round inside him slowly. Sending fire into the aching pain already there, sharp and raw. It twisted sharply, making him gasp for air and clutch at his own chest, tears burning at his eyes.  
“Sammy, no...”

He barely noticed when someone new clambered into the ambulance with him, sitting by his feet quietly.  
The newcomer shuddered with both his own physical pain and the weight of the emotional pain he could sense from Dean. He leaned forwards and stretched an arm up slowly, his fingers finding Sam's foot and scrabbling for purchase. Once he had hold of his target, he started to sing.

  


~ x ~

  


When Sam awoke next, the first thought to register was 'is this Heaven?'. Bright fluorescent lights assaulted his eyes when he opened them, bringing tears to his eyes. He snapped them shut again, then carefully reopened them and squinted into the light.  
It was immediately obvious that no, this was not Heaven. Not unless Heaven consisted of a rather crowded looking hospital.  


Recalling the agony he had been in the last time he'd been awake and fully aware, Sam carefully took in a deep breath. He expected fire at any moment, had even flinched in anticipation of it – but, nothing. His breath came easily, no pain flaring up inside him. Either he'd been out a lot longer than he'd thought, or this hospital had some fantastic pain meds.  
Somehow, he didn't think there were any meds in the world that could completely erase all pain from having a tree go through your chest. Which left the former.  


Dark thoughts of decades long comas struck him and he sucked in a deep breath, fighting down the rising panic inside him.  
“Dean?” He tried, a little unsure, and was relieved to find his voice worked completely fine. Maybe not decades then. Feeling more confident, he called again a little louder, the panic beginning to subside.  


“Oh, you're awake!” A pretty, young nurse smiled at him, her head poking through the curtains around his bed. “Your brother just went to go get some coffee, he'll be back soon. I'm Lana, your nurse.”  
Sam nodded, bemused. Dean, drinking coffee? Rather than alcohol?  
That usually meant he was in a really good mood... Which seemed rather at odds with their impromptu hospital visit.  


He was spared from his thoughts by a cheerful call of “Sammy!”, then Dean was beside his bed. “How you feelin'?” He grinned at his brother, clearly delighted with something.  
“I feel fine.” Sam answered, puzzled again. “Like it never happened. How long have I been out...?”  
“Mmm, about 2 hours give or take.” Dean's grin widened further, and he shifted on the spot.  


That was when Sam realised Dean's legs seemed absolutely fine, and things made even less sense.  
“Two hours? I had a tree through my chest! That doesn't heal in two hours!”  
“Nah, more like five minutes.”  
“Dean, what the Hell?!”  
Dean laughed in answer, moving to one side so Sam could see clearly.  
“Relax, Sammy. This is Cas. The angel we ran over? Turns out, once he woke up he had a few miracles to spare.”  


Sam stared for a long moment at the angel, before he realised he was doing it and he tore his gaze away, fixing it back on Dean.  
“Angel? Miracles...?” He repeated weakly, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. Lana smiled, shaking her head.  
“You're only here because you stayed unconscious after the angel healed you. You're free to go whenever you like. Physically, there's nothing wrong with you. It's often forgotten, but angels are strong healers.”  


“...Why'd he do it? We ran him over!” Sam exclaimed in confusion, glancing at 'Cas' again.  
“You may not believe it, but that was preferable to the fate that awaited me had that demon caught me.” Castiel answered sombrely, casting his eyes downwards when everyone looked at him.  
“Which was?” Sam asked curiously, breaking the silence that had grown after the angel's statement.  
The angel in question shuddered and drew his wings in tighter to his back, hugging himself.  


“They would have taken my wings.” He answered in a small voice, distinctly frightened by the very idea.  
“Taken... your wings? Why?” Sam asked, bemused.  
“You don't pay a lot of attention to the rich crowds, do you?” Lana cut in, smiling wryly. “Angel feathers are a high class luxury item. Take an angels wings and you'll get very rich very fast. It's a disgusting practice, but perfectly legal.”  
“Just one more reason for pet demons to be illegal, then.” Dean scowled, standing closer than was strictly necessary to Castiel.  


“Well, up you get Sammy. You heard the lady, there's nothing wrong with you, so let's scoot. We gotta get my baby to Bobby's.”  
Sam snorted softly and swung his legs off the side of the bed, getting up carefully. Even despite the repeated words that he was OK, angel healing was real thorough, he'd expected even a little dizziness – After all, he must have lost a lot of blood in the accident. However, it seemed miracle angel healing replicated lost blood too, and he felt absolutely fine.  
“Where are my clothes?” He asked, absent-mindedly plucking at his hospital gown.  
“I'll just go grab them for you, one sec.” Lana beamed at him before pushing back through the curtains, disappearing into the humdrum activity of the hospital.

  


“So... What're you gonna do now, Cas?” Sam asked out of mild curiosity, looking to the shorter man. Castiel gazed back solemnly, before looking away to one side.  
“I don't know. My brother was caught a while ago; I've been living alone since. Now the demons know where my nest is...”  
“-Alone?” Dean cut in, surprised. “I thought angels couldn't stand being alone?”  
Castiel gave a dry smile, one that didn't reach his eyes.  
“We can't. But I managed, till now. Gabriel and I were the last of our flock. The others all either migrated with other flocks or were captured by hunting parties.”  
Dean let out a low whistle, clapping a hand to the angels shoulder. “Well, no more! Come with us. S'the least we can do after we ran you over, anyway.”  


Startled, Castiel shied away from Dean's hand, crouching low as if to flee. He relaxed only a little at Dean's words, wings ruffling nervously.  
“With you?” He repeated uncertainly, giving both brothers a childlike wide-eyed look.  
“Yea. Why not? Cas can come, right Sammy?” Dean grinned, looking to his brother expectantly.  
Sam smiled at Castiel and nodded, stretching. “Sure. We do owe you, you know? And we can't really leave you alone for those demons to catch. Come with. We can keep you safe.”  
“But I...” Castiel started uncertainly, ruffling his wings quietly. “Angels don't really... Mix with humans.”  
“So?” Dean snorted softly, watching the angel. “Who cares? You're on your own and you've already said that's not normal for angels either.”  


Castiel looked unsure still, but relented. “I will... accompany you, for the time being.”  
“Great! Couple of ground rules though – No shedding in my baby. No weird angel things in my baby. And never touch the pie when Sammy buys food, that's mine out of all that veggie crap he brings back.”  
Castiel nodded seriously, while Sam shook his head with an exaggerated sigh.  
“You follow those rules, you can ride shotgun.”  


Sam's cry of “Hey!” went unnoticed by both of them, as at that moment Lana returned, clothes in hand. “Out.” She shooed the angel and human duo out, passing the clothes to Sam with a smile. Then she was gone too. Sam could hear her laughing at something Dean had said just beyond the curtains, as he changed from the open hospital gown.  


Once he was comfortable, in his own clothes again, he pushed through the curtains and stood beside his brother.  
“Well, time to hit the ride. See you.” Dean winked at Lana, eliciting another giggle.  
“Thanks for everything.” Sam smiled at her as he passed, following his brother towards the exit. Castiel trailed behind them, cautious – and rightfully so. Demons had followed him all day. It was perfectly possible that they lay in wait outside the safety of the hospital walls.  


With that in mind, he sped up so as to catch up with Dean, sticking close to his side.  
Even on alert as he was as he passed through the doors into the dark car park, he missed the glint on shiny black eyes, and the flickering of a spaded tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love feedback on how well I did or didn't do on this one! Tried to write it as sad as I could to start with but I've not got a lot of experience with writing sad yet. u.u


	4. Contemplative Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.  
> There aren't excuses for this taking as long as it did, it shouldn't have. :( I've been focusing on my drawing more than my writing, when I could have been doing both. This chapter isn't very long, but I think I'm getting back into it well enough. As an apology for this taking as long as it did, I'll be writing up a couple more of the one shot info stories that go into this series - one for Angels, one for demons. I'll also be drawing a bit of art for the story for you guys to enjoy.  
> I had to hunt down the notepad this was written into, but now that I've found it again I'll take it with me to work again and write on my breaks.
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy!

 Fire, flickering. Burning.

The smell of burning hair, the stench of bubbling flesh. Overwhelming. Suffocating.

He watched as she burned alive, felt the heat of the flames on his own skin. Looked down.

He started screaming when his own flesh began to sizzle and burn, when the fire caught, roaring around him.

_Agony. The flames seared his very mind with their intensity. The world narrowed to nothing but the fire and the pain._

 

“Dean!”

Dean awoke abruptly to find an unfamiliar face above him. He lashed out defensively, and Castiel backed up immediately. Dean groaned, pressing his palms over his eyes. Feeling the coolness opposing the image of fire still etched into his minds' eye.

“You were making a lot of noise.” Castiel offered, shifting uncertainly where he crouched a safe distance away.

Dean cleared his throat – momentarily confused by how easy it was, when it should be sore from coughing in dense smoke – and shook his head. “S'nightmare. Doesn't matter.” He muttered, pushing himself upright. “Where's Sammy?”

“Outside.”

 

Dean emerged from the abandoned house they were using as shelter for the night, blinking till his eyes adjusted to the darkness outside. There was no moon to light the way as he cautiously made his way towards the impala, turning the world into something alien and frightening. The dark was alive with demons, usually. That was forefront in his mind when he finally reached the car and leaned into comforting cold metal. “Hey, Sammy.”

“Dean. Cas wake you up?” His brother greeted him in a subdued tone, sitting sprawled hazardously across the bonnet.

“Mmm. I guess I got too loud.” Dean pulled a half hearted smirk, trying to make a joke of it.

“You should see someone about that, you know.” Sam started, tone indifferent. Dean wouldn't do it. He'd suggested it before many times – and Dean would always steer the conversation away masterfully.

“It's fine. What are you doing up?” Dean countered, as always turning the conversation to his brother instead.  
“Couldn't sleep.” Sam's tone said it all. Couldn't sleep because of the waiting nightmares. Nightmares of squealing tyres, the crunch of metal. The impact. The absent pain where there should have been pain.

“I nearly died today. If it hadn't been for Castiel...” He spoke quietly, clearly humbled by the very thought.

“Don't dwell on it, Sam.” Dean responded a little more sharply than intended, then softened. “Cas was there and he saved you. There's no point dwelling on what _could_ have happened.”

“...How do we protect an _Angel_ , Dean? He's this ancient divine creature and we're... We're just people. We know what demons can do, and they want him. What do we do?” Sam sighed, his mind running through it all repeatedly. Useless. _Useless._ They couldn't do it. This was too much for them, too big. They'd spent their lives avoiding demons and campaigning against demon ownership and now, here they were, facing hordes of the blasted creatures.

Demons were foul. They were shaped like grotesquely formed humans, nightmare fuel in their own right. Elongated, clawed feet. Long slender legs, perfect for hunting. They ran on all fours, their longer hind legs bunched behind them, full of bounding power. Beneath the shoulders connected another set of arms, smaller and built for holding things. Their faces were flat like a humans, but the mouths were too wide, the eyes too large and black. Behind them stretched a sinewy, slender tail ending in a spade. Their skin was soft, but key areas were scaled – shoulders, spine, forehead, knees and elbows.

Some people found them appealing and wanted them for aesthetic reasons. Neither Sam nor Dean could see it, personally. Whenever they saw a demon, all they saw was the wicked glint in those evil eyes, the curve of claws meant for rending flesh from bone. Soft, human flesh.

 

Demons were not pets. Not even close.

 

He was torn from his thoughts by his brother speaking to him, his voice too loud in the night.

“I know this is big, Sammy. Bigger than anything we've ever done before. But we already owe this Angel – owe Cas – so much. Hell, I ran the dude over and he still chose to save your life. That kind of selflessness ain't common. We gotta help him out of this, Sam. Sure, it's dangerous, and we'll be tangling with the demons we wanted to avoid... But hey, any thing that pisses them off is a good thing in my book.” Dean smirked his way, watching him closely.

“We do owe him. And we'll help him, God knows we'll help him, but Dean... How? His flock is gone. He doesn't have a home to go back to any more. He said it himself, his brother was the last one of his flock with him and he's gone too.” Sam sighed, looking up at the sky as if to find the answers there. All he found above were heavy storm clouds, waiting to burst open. “If these demons want his wings so bad, they won't hesitate to kill us to get them. Hell, we're trying to ruin their hunting parties already, they probably don't need any other reasons to try and kill us.”

“Don't think I don't know that Sammy. But we gotta try, at the very least. We can do that much. We-” Dean's head snapped round, his eyes scanning the dark for something.

“...Dean?” Sam sat up straighter, looking to his brother and trying to follow his gaze. “What is it?”

“...Thought I heard something moving...”

 

A few tense minutes passed before he relaxed again, shaking his head with a frown. “Must have been a rat or something. C'mon Sammy, we should go back inside. Cas is probably wondering if we've upped and left without him by now.”

 

~X~

 

Pain. So much pain.

It ran bone deep, a terrible _ache_ that seared down his back and into his arms, set his teeth on edge. He tried to endure it, but small sounds kept escaping from him. Whines and sobs that only made it feel worse. He didn't care about the humiliation of being seen this way by his captors. His whole world was focused on the pain. He was barely even aware of their presence any more, until cruel fingers curved around the arch of a wing once again. There was the sensation of something _tugging_ at the inside, and then fresh pain washed over him. He tried to curl up into a tighter ball to escape it, but his chains prevented it. His wrists were manacled to either side of him, attached to the edges of the table he was trapped on.

Dimly, he knew what was happening. This was the fifth time he had gone through this now. The first time, it had been so much worse. He had screamed until his voice was gone, battered himself against his chains in his attempts to escape the pain. They had beaten him once it was over, shouted at him for ruining their goods. The feathers were torn more than necessary due to his frantic escape attempts, streaked red with his blood.

Despite having gone through the process four times prior to now, it never got any easier. It was agony, pure and simple. His wings were taking longer and longer to recover after each shear. That was how it worked, after all. To begin with, it would only take roughly four days for an Angel's wings to regrow its feathers out as if nothing had ever happened. But the more shears an Angel went through, the longer the length of time it took to regrow their wings. It was as if their very wings were deeply traumatised by each shearing – something he could well believe. This being his fifth shear, his wings had only just finished regrowing. It had taken them a month and four days. All for nothing, as they took from him once again his gift of flight. He hated them.

He _hated_ them.

One of his smaller feathers escaped from their grasping hands, floating gently down, twisting in the air, to land by his manacled wrist. He gazed down at it through eyes blurred with tears, trying to lose himself in the soft golden sheen of it. Trying anything he could to distance himself from the pain in his wings. Dimly, he heard something snap, screwed his eyes tight against the nauseating pain that washed through him. Heard them swearing and moving around behind him, then something scratchy and uncomfortable pressed to his wing. A blood feather. They'd snapped another one, again. Every shear, he lost blood to the slowest feathers to grow back in. They only needed an extra day or two to finish, and then the blood would recede and the feather would no longer bleed out when snapped, but his captors were impatient. An extra day before shearing his wings was an extra day of making no profit from him. The fifth shear was usually the last one they would do before killing the Angel and throwing the corpse out. After the fifth shear, it would take an Angel's wings over 2 months to recover.

Oh, but he would not be spared that easily. They dropped his wings, and he let them hang heavily from the manacles that held them up. It wasn't over. They would kill him and leave now, were he any other Angel. There would be no good profit left to make from him. But he wasn't, so they would not. Instead, he felt them lift his next set.

 

Yes, as an Archangel he had the pleasure of being held for shearing not just five times as any other Angel, but _eight. Eight shears._ He wasn't sure he could last that long. The pain alone felt it should kill him. But it never did, and so he had to sit out his life in a cold and damp cage, miserable, awaiting the next shear.

 


	5. The Human Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, again. uu I'm settling into a schedule for this and my other fic now, so things should run MUCH smoother. And if I fail to stick to it, you all have my permission to scream at me!

Castiel was in a good mood.

The two brothers were arguing in the front of the impala over something trivial, and Castiel was paying little attention to their words. Despite their arguing, he could sense contentment and happiness emanating from the pair. Their good mood had put him in a good mood too, and he was relaxed for the first time in.. Well, as long as he could remember. Since his flock had dissipated, Castiel had been unable to relax. He and Gabriel had been on the run together since, up until the point where the older angel was captured. Remembering that moment, he sighed and fixed his gaze downwards.

Castiel was no longer in a good mood. While he was enjoying relative safety and the protection of the Winchesters, his flock was no more and the last remaining member- but for himself- was likely dead already. He felt a pang of guilt mixed with the ache of sorrow in his chest, aware that were it not for Gabriel he would have been the one captured, and the older angel would have survived in his place. With that in mind, the guilt intensified. He was responsible for Gabriel's death, it had been his fault the hunters had even stood a chance at capturing the cunning archangel. The only reason they had been able to take him down was Castiel- if he had only been faster, less clumsy, both of them might have made it out together.

But they hadn't. Here he was, the last surviving angel of his once great flock. He closed his eyes, schooling his face into calm indifference so as not to betray his thoughts to the brothers. They were his to bear, and his alone. He would not burden anyone else with them.

 

~X~

 

“So, what are angels really like?”

The trio had reached a rather run down motel, but given the time they had spent on the road already they had been more than happy to rest there. Dean had claimed a bed the instant he had walked through the door, tossing his bag aside once through the door and flopping down onto the least rotten-looking bed. He was out already, snoring lightly. Sam had shaken his head at his brother, placing his bag down rather more carefully before sitting down at the small table near the corner of the room. The brothers were used to staying in dubious motels, run down and hardly worth the money, but Castiel was not; when he first entered the room behind the others, he wrinkled his nose and pulled a face. The musty smell of the room had hit him all at once, and, as an angel, it was especially bad for him. His senses were sharper than humans, and the smell was everywhere, attacking his nose. He turned to Sam as he was spoken to, trying to ignore the scent. “Pardon?”  
  


“Angels? I mean, there's all sorts of stories about them being loving protectors and all, but then apparently they're actually really vicious.” Sam gazed earnestly at Castiel, leaning forwards a little in his chair. Though his main focus was normally demons, he had to admit- angels were fascinating. They were the complete opposite of demons; where the latter was nightmarish and twisted, hideous to behold, angels were pleasant on the eyes. Their wings were beautiful in every depiction of them, shining with a lustrous inner light that the angels seemed to share with one another, as if it linked all of them together. Angels were glorious and yet cruel, vicious when found in the wild. Sam could not deny being interested in the mysterious species.

 

“We were.. protectors, once.” Castiel responded slowly, thinking back on very old memories. “We healed and we cared for the Earth and it's peoples.. We were revered. But not anymore.. Your medical sciences have progressed enough that we are considered obsolete for the most part. Humans have all but forgotten how we used to be in favour of making money from us. I do not know about vicious, but perhaps others have become so in order to defend themselves against hunters.” He lapsed into silence, thinking about his old flock and the fate of many of the angels he had known in the past. Most were dead now, caught by the hunters and sheared until they were no longer profitable. He sighed, moving around the room slowly and looking over at Dean. “Demons have had better luck with humanity than angels..”

 

“We've been trying to change that.” Sam responded quietly, watching as the angel slowly explored the room. “Demons are awful yet they're legally kept as pets. If we could change the law on that and make them illegal to keep, a lot less people would be at risk.”

“That's true.” Castiel tilted his head slightly, stopping besides Dean's prone form. “Humans are soft and vulnerable yet they keep demons for pets. I.. cannot understand why.”

“Neither can we. Apparently there's an aesthetic appeal but I can't see it. They're not pretty at all.” Sam shook his head, leaning back in his chair now.

“Demons are untameable..” Castiel said slowly, thinking it over. “Perhaps humanity has grown too comfortable in its.. superiority on this planet. They believe they can control everything and in this belief they have allowed something wild into their homes. When it inevitably goes wrong they do not understand..”

“No one gets that. Demons are wild killers, not pets.” Sam sighed, looking down at his hands. “One killed our mother, a long time ago. It was the family pet and our parents believed it was tame and loyal. Needless to say, it wasn't.”

“I am.. sorry to hear that, Sam.” Castiel looked over at him, his expression one of genuine sympathy. As hardened as the angels had been forced to become in order to survive in a world out for their feathers, very few could stand to hear of tragedy without feeling even a flicker of sympathy, and Castiel was no different; in fact, more so. He had been, for the most part, untouched by humanity since his flock moved into the wild. As such, he had only seen the cruelty humans could inflict on his brethren from far away, had never experienced it himself, and was still able to emotionally connect with them better than many other angels.

 

~X~

 

Hours had passed, and Sam had left to go fetch the three of them something to eat. Dean was awake now, sitting back against the headboard and flipping through a newspaper slowly. Castiel stood awkwardly by the other bed, unsure what to do with himself, until eventually Dean looked up at him and raised one eyebrow. “Sit down?”

Slowly the angel complied, perching on the edge of the other bed. “Dean..”

“Hmm?” Dean glanced over at him again, roughly folding up the paper and tossing it to one side on the bed. “What's up Cas?”

“If you succeed in outlawing demons as pets.. What will you do afterwards?”

“..Hell if I know.” Dean shrugged, shifting slightly to angle towards his conversational partner. “Never really given it thought, y'know? This whole thing has taken up years of our lives so far, and the end never seems any nearer. Hardly seems worth thinking about what comes afterwards when there's no end in sight for this battle.”

“..Perhaps, if I might.. Would you help the angels?” Castiel looked to him earnestly, clasping his hands together. Dean looked a little taken aback at the idea, but considered it after a moment.

“..Maybe. I guess, it's not like we'd have anything else to do. Hell, I don't see a reason why we can't do both at the same time.”

“You will?” Castiel looked happy at his answer, his wings fluffing up behind him in response to his mood, the black feathers shining with a warm sheen under the light.

“We'll try.” Dean watched the angel puff up, amused by the way his wings betrayed his feelings. “I guess you're sticking around for the ride then, huh?”

Castiel nodded, then paused. “If that is okay?”

“Sure thing Cas. But you get the laundry run!”

 

~X~

 

It was cold, dark and lonely. The cage was small and cramped, leaving him no space to rest painlessly. He was curled up in the middle of it, his cheek pressed to the cold bars below him and wings- torn as they were, bleeding and trembling from still-remembered pain- tucked to his sides. They were pitiful really, only the skin and smallest feathers remained. Even those were ragged and tattered, hardly the proud golden feathers they once were. But he was hardly the proud archangel he had once been, curled up in a cage too small and sick with pain. He closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the cold bars digging into him from below, and prayed that the end would hurry. Each time he went through the shearing, his wings took longer and longer to recover. It had taken them two months and four days (He had nothing better to do in the cage than count the days go by) to grow back this time. Eventually the time taken for them to recover would outweigh the hefty profit the hunters were making from his feathers, and they would kill him. That was what he was counting down to, praying that the day of his death would come sooner rather than later.

At first he had fought back, had injured his captors, even if only slightly. Clawed and bit, kicked and struck out wildly with arms and wings. They had struggled to hold him, wings beating in all directions as he writhed around to break their grasp, but it had all been in vain. They had held fast, and now here he was. He barely had the energy to lift his head any longer, his eyes felt heavy. He could hardly remember the joy of flight, of free falling through the air only to pull up sharply at the last possible second to avoid impact. His wings were useless, and his captivity had dragged out so long and slow that it felt as if he had always been there, and always would be.

That was a thought that plagued him every waking moment, and sometimes even in his dreams.

 

~X~

When Sam returned with the food, turning the room handle with great difficulty and pushing the door in with his foot, he found Dean and Castiel having what looked to be a staring contest. He cleared his throat loudly, raising one eyebrow, and their heads snapped towards him. Both of them looked startled, as if they had forgotten they had a third room mate. Dean recovered quicker than Castiel, standing up with a wide grin. “What'd you get Sammy? Any-”

“-Yes Dean, I got your pie.” Sam responded firmly, not even letting his brother finish the question. He let the door close behind him, walking over to the table and putting the food down. He pulled his own out – salad, go figure – and left the rest alone, sitting down to eat on the only chair in the room. Dean immediately crossed the room to claim his pie, hooking the bag of food in a couple of fingers and retreating back to where Castiel sat still.

 

“I had no idea what kind of food Cas likes, so I just took a stab at the menu.” Sam shrugged, glancing over at the angel in question.

“It is fine, Sam. For future reference, all angels feed only from what nature freely gives us. Fruits and wild berries, for example.” Castiel responded distractedly, peering down into the paper bag at the assortment of food stuffed inside. He began pulling out bits and pieces, placing each one carefully on the bed beside himself. Every now and then, he paused to examine something, bemused. “..Humans eat such strange things.”

 

In the end, he settled for a small salad at the bottom of the bag, peeling it open slowly and picking at it with his fingers. When he finally took a bite of his chosen food, he was surprised to find how fresh and good it tasted- Given that nearly all the food humans seemed to eat came wrapped in plastic and Heaven knows what else, he had expected the food to taste of little more than plastic too. But it was good, almost as good as the food his flock had picked in the wild when they had roamed freely, fresh red berries and juicy fruit fresh with the scent of the rain.

 

He closed his eyes as he ate, silent and contemplative- yet ever aware of the brothers, keyed in to their emotions at such close proximity to them. The brothers were very alike, but also very different; Sam's emotions felt calm, almost to the point of serenity. Below the contentment, Castiel could feel a steely determination and intense focus emanating from the younger brother, underlaid with a fierce love for his brother.

Dean, however.. Where Sam was a tranquil ocean with hidden depths, Dean was burning fire, his emotions hot and burning bright for all to see. Even though he was relaxed and enjoying his pie on the other bed, Castiel could feel a blazing iron determination from him, protectiveness towards his brother with love at its core, all underlaid with the ache of old sorrows and guilts. He reopened his eyes and looked at the source of the fire, feeling wonderment grow in himself. Angels had always known that humanity was special, but as times had changed and the angels themselves had become outcasts, they had gradually forgotten this. Here, in the company of the two brothers, Castiel was reminded once more of the brightness of the human heart, their complexity and how hot their emotions could run. A small smile graced his lips, and he returned to his food.

 

Though he was not among his own and likely would remain that way, he felt safe sitting with the Winchesters, wrapped up in their beautiful emotions and protected from his demonic hunters. Heaven knew how long the peace would last, but he hardly cared at that moment, savouring every bite of his food to the background hum of the brothers voices.

 


	6. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would only be much later when the brothers would wonder - how had the demons known which road they would take? How had they known to topple the tree that had trapped them?

Settling into the back seat of the impala in the early morning, Castiel gazed out the window at the orange-streaked sky.  
The two brothers had decided to get an early start on the road, heading back to their home in Lawrence. While curious as to what their usual living space looked like in comparison to the motel rooms they'd been staying in along the way, Castiel was not particularly bothered by that; he was somewhat sad to be heading so far away from where his flock had once rested. For a moment he allowed himself to indulge in his happier memories, of times when the whole flock had been together still. He recalled leaping and weaving between the trees with his brothers and sisters.  
Gabriel had been the eldest in his flock, but he was nowhere near as strict as the other adult angels. He had played with the fledglings regularly, and had taught the young angels to fly. Castiel remembered perching in the treetops with the entire flock, watching the sun set and rise again, the glorious colours that washed across the sky.  
The angel sighed, coming back to himself as Dean loudly pulled his door closed, Sam following suit moments later. The brothers were ready to leave, which meant it was time for him to wish his old home goodbye.

They had only been on the road for half an hour before they were forced to stop. A fallen tree lay across the road, blocking the exit from the town they had been staying in and rendering the road useless. It had been there for at least a day already and the word had spread; the road was abandoned, empty but for them.  
Dean hit the wheel in frustration, before climbing out of the car to survey the tree. Sam joined him, and the two stepped up to it, examining it and pondering what to do now. Castiel remained in the car, gripping the seat either side of himself tightly - he was stuck with a growing sense of unease, battling with his instincts to up and fly away.  
"This was cut deliberately!" Sam exclaimed a moment later, peering at the torn up roots and running a finger along unmistakeable claw marks.  
"Seriously?" Dean grumbled to himself, moving to Sam's side. As soon as he saw the claw marks, he tensed. "Sammy - Back in the car. Quick."  
Though his words and tone belayed urgency and tension, Dean himself kept still, remaining by the roots as his brother returned to the Impala. His eyes darted back and forth, now wary of the thick woods on either side of the road. He couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean they weren't still there. Demons.  
Demons had torn up the tree, he was sure of it. The idea that demons had deliberately trapped them made him uneasy, and he felt paranoid, certain he could feel eyes on him from every direction. Slowly, he began to inch back over to the car, his eyes flicking around ceaselessly the entire time. Before he could reach the relative safety of the car, he heard the unmistakeable rustling of something behind him. He spun around, preparing himself for whatever it might be - and was knocked clean off his feet as a black blur rushed from the undergrowth.  
Next thing he knew, Dean was staring an angry demon in the eyes. He immediately began to struggle, shouting out to his brother amid a flurry of claws, teeth, and his own flailing limbs. The demon sank its teeth into his upper arm, biting deep. Dean cried out in pain, redoubling his efforts to break free of the nightmare beast.  
Sam sprinted for his brother, leaving safety behind without a single thought. Before he could reach him, a second and third demon emerge from the woods, and, snarling, lunged at Sam.

They drove the demons off together.  
As the two circled Sam, slavering hungrily, he tried to keep them both in his field of view. It was difficult, as they knew exactly what he was trying to do - demons are not stupid, after all - and they both split off to either side. He was forced to look to one, then the other, and in the moment he looked away the demon behind him would lunge forwards. He fought them off the best he could with his bare hands, jabbing at their throats when they lunged and locking his thumbs in the gaps behind teeth at the back of their jaws to hold the fangs at bay. By the time Dean had drove his own opponent off, Sam was bleeding from multiple jagged claw wounds and bruises were blossoming all over. He grunted as the demon behind him headbutted him in the small of his back, feeling small horns pierce flesh and then rip up as the demon jerked its head upwards. He cried out at the twin lines of fire that resulted, throwing the demon atop him away and twisting away from the other, throwing a punch that caught the beast in the jaw. It yowled and spun away, holding one wickedly clawed hand to its face and glaring sullenly while its partner repeatedly tried to hobble the tall man's ankles.  
That was when Dean dove in to help, grabbing a sharp branch from the fallen tree and brandishing it like a spear, jabbing the splintered end into the snarling demons ribs. It howled at him and he shouted back, a wordless cry of anger at the state of his brother. The demon took a swipe at the branch, knocking it out of Dean's hands but giving Sam time to grab it by the tail. He yanked, hard, and the demon slid backwards away from Dean, spitting and hissing as it went. Dean dove for the branch again as the second demon came back into the fray. He swept it upwards just in time to shield himself from the second beast, which, not expecting him to recover his 'weapon' so soon, took the full force of the blow directly to one eye. A scream of agony exploded from between its jaws, startling the first demon, and the two turned in unison and fled back into the thick undergrowth of the woods. Panting, the two brothers scrambled back into the car - perceived safety - and a moment later they peeled back out towards the town and away from the ambush spot.

It would only be much later when the brothers would wonder - how had the demons known which road they would take? How had they known to topple the tree that had trapped them?  
X

It was much, much later by the time they had finally gotten going again. They were driving on through the night, both brothers wound up and tense after the demon ambush that day.  
"Dean, how do demons think of stuff like that themselves? They have to have an owner. Someone we've pissed off with our campaigning, probably." Sam was thinking it all through logically, a thoughtful look on his face. His brother, however, seemed to be trying to put it to the back of his mind. He frowned at the road ahead, gripping the wheel a little more forcefully than was necessary.  
"Sam, can we just forget about it? They're way behind us now." He grumbled quietly, though without any real irritation.  
"I know, but they could have friends up ahead too." Sam argued his point, worrying incessantly over it all. "What if it happens again? We got pretty lucky back there..."  
"Lucky or no, we beat the bastards back and that's that." Dean grunted in reply, sparing his brother a sideways glance. "They'll think twice about going for us again after the hits we got in on those demons."  
Sam remained unconvinced but nodded, leaning back in his seat and gazing out the window. "I sure hope so."  
"Quit worryin' Sammy, we're fine."  
"Sam is right, Dean. Demons aren't smart enough to pull that off alone." Castiel piped up from the backseat, brows furrowed. "Though it is perhaps more likely because I am with you, than it is for any of your actions. Maybe it would be best if I were to-"  
"-No. No Cas, we owe you and we are not abandoning you like that." Dean asserted himself firmly, overriding the angels quieter voice. "No arguing. I don't care if all the demons in the world come after us. This is what me and Sammy live for, anyway. We'll get the fuckers banned yet."  
Cas looked as if he wanted to argue with the human, but he sat back, discontent but quiet. He sank back into his thoughts, tuning out from the conversation as it turned to more casual chatter. He wondered where Gabriel was, if he was still alive. Part of him hoped the older angel wasn't - the fate that awaited any angel who was captured was worse than death, at least as far as the angel was concerned. Wing stripping was an excruciating process, both the act itself and the regrowth afterwards. Stripped the first time, the wings were damaged - if not physically, then psychologically. The angel being aware of what was to come once the feathers were regrown made it painful to watch them growing out once more, even if it didn't actually hurt. He shuddered at the thought, praying for his brother.

X

Gabriel curled in on himself as much as he physically could, shaking in the much-too-small cage and squeezing his eyes shut tight. His captors had been in to visit him, laughing and joking with each other cheerily while he suffered. Humans were despicable, cruel creatures, delighting in the torment of every innocent animal they harmed - angels included. Gabriel had tried to hold onto the memories of kinder humans, gentle people he had shared laughter and food with. It had been easy, at first, to remember that not all humans were evil like the twisted pair tearing his feathers away from him. It had grown harder after the second stripping, the pain driving him wild. The knowledge that, as an archangel, he faced at least another six strips was what finally broke him. It was bad enough for regular angels - for him, it was three times the pain every strip and he had to face it more times. That was when he had abandoned the humans, turning instead to bitterness and loathing.  
Even should he be freed, he was no longer the angel he once was.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive and I'm so so sorry.  
> I'm an awful person but I am getting round to updating everything right now. I considered just not posting any updates until I'd finished writing it then updating it all in one go, but that gives me zero reason to write with any regularity - at least this way, you can all tell me off to prompt me to keep writing the next chapter.
> 
> I'm not actually in the Supernatural fandom so much anymore.. And I'm not much of a sabriel/destiel shipper anymore either. I still want to finish this, for my readers, but I just don't feel it anymore. Hopefully that won't affect how it reads, but it does mean I want to finish this up - Which, luckily, should mean fairly speedy updates till it's all done. I'm gonna try not to rush it through though, I don't want the story suffering just because I'm not into it anymore.  
> All your Kudos' and subscriptions definitely got this chapter written, despite the date of the last update! I felt so bad seeing the emails about them and remembering how long it's been ;; I'm going to sit down and start planning properly how the chapters are going, so I can have a clear end goal to work towards. That's part of the problem with my writing, I think; I very much just go ahead and write what I feel, I don't think ahead at all. I have the concept and I just sit down and start typing with zero planning. I don't even know where the chapters are going when I'm writing them, I just go with what comes to mind as I write. That worked OK for the previous chapters, but the year and a halfish gap since the last update? Clearly means it's not working that great! So from the moment this chapter goes up, I'm planning the rest out. :) This is absolutely my new year's resolution.
> 
> Hope you all had good holidays, and Happy New Year!


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